Eva on the Via Francigena (and beyond)

Song of the Day: Rome — Phoenix

“Rome, Rome, Rome, Rome / Focus, looking forward, the Coliseum…Always and forever more / And together getting lonely / Ithought I couldn’t do this without you / Single in his bed somewhere / Ashes still it fall, fall, falls”

I am very much in the greater Rome fallout zone now. I could see the beginnings of it in Sutri — fancy cars and well-dressed couples. In Sutri I had a heavily-Botoxed woman give me and my pilgrim outfit the full up-and-down. And of course today’s town even has “Roma” in the name — this was historically where wealthy Romans would come to escape the city. Sort of the Hamptons of 15th-century Italy, if you will. So as I move in on my final destination, naturally I need some hype music to keep me “focused, looking forward…”

I woke up this morning with a headache, and feeling surprisingly refreshed despite losing an hour of sleep due to Daylight Savings. This was explained, once I had rubbed the sleep from my eyes and taken an Advil, by the realization that I had in fact gained an hour since the clocks moved back. Grateful either way for the extra light at 7am, I watched the qualifying highlights (bad day to be Sergio Perez) and finished packing.

As I made my way toward Sutri’s main square I ran into Steve, who Jen had briefly introduced me to yesterday. We greeted each other and he said he was out in search of coffee, and would I like to join? In no rush today, I said of course, and sat down for coffee at an outdoor table in the main piazza with Steve, his wife Kay, and their friends Penny and Michelle. We sat chatting for awhile, and when I started to feel antsy I handed over the money for my coffee and started to pack up. I spotted Sergio at another cafe across the way, and quickly went to greet him as he savored a coffee and cornetto. Domenico passed through the square as well on his way to a coffee, waving at us as he continued briskly on. Once again amazed by the warm sense of pilgrim community, I picked up my poles and headed out of town.

Once again passing the amphitheater, I wandered by a parked car. Music hung faintly in the air, and it was only as I walked by that I realized there was a man sitting in the passenger seat of this car, windows rolled up, playing a trumpet. Perplexing.

Another pilgrim, a woman I had not met before, pulled up next to me as I continued walking. Her name was Lucia and she was walking with a group of others from Vicenza. She blew a whistle at them to encourage them to hurry up, as they hung back admiring the amphitheater. They started in Viterbo, so would have a short sprint into Rome over these next few days. I was starting to pick up the pace, so bid Lucia a dopo as she stopped to wait on her friends.

The next section of walking was a bit of a blur as I ambled along first on roads (as usually, the danger of which was greatly exaggerated by the guidebook) and then country lanes cutting through more groves of hazelnut trees. Having struggled a bit on some of these last few days with my mind jumping forward to post-pilgrim life, I instead opted to cast my mind backwards, and try to reflect on the journey.

Of course, proper reflection needs to happen organically, so really this was more of a memory test. I went through, day by day, trying to highlight key moments (high and low) that stuck out to me from each day. Things like the lovely cemetery outside the All Saint’s Church, the family dinner with my Airbnb hosts in Ecottes, going to Complies in Wisques, reading in the Seraucourt-le-Grand campervan. The blisters and the heat and the terrifying road walking going into Peronne. Walking with Giulia through the Champagne vines, seeing Monique at the Vitry-le-Francois train station. Celebrating my birthday with 13 wines and dinner with Krista. Meeting Patrick for the first time. Pilgrim dinners in Chateauvillain and Mormant. And so on. I can go on — that’s only the first 20 days or so! This truly has been such a rich experience. I am incredibly lucky to get to do this.

I actually got further than this — all the way to Vercelli — before I started to feel my brain running out of space, and my mind wandering to some of the more negative thoughts that have dogged me on the trail these last 3 months. Perfectly natural, but it means I needed a break.

That came soon. After passing a golf course — noting the weird almost uncanny-valley version of nature that golf courses are, in contrast with the fields and forests I could see on the other side of the road — I crossed into the midpoint town of Monterosi and parked myself at the first bar in sight for a cappuccino and piece of cake. As I started making my way out of town, I was drawn by the smell of fresh-baked bread into a bakery, where I watched a fresh tray of pizza bianca be removed from the oven and sliced in front of me. I mean, how could I not — I ordered a slice and ate it while walking. It was warm, crunchy, full of hot air and oil and salt. Perfect.

As I munched on this I made my way downhill through more fields on dusty country roads. At a certain point I got caught in traffic — a group of riders on horseback pulled out ahead of me, so I slowed down to give them a bit of space. After a quick chat with one of the riding instructors I was back on my own, enjoying the lovely weather and letting my thoughts wander.

I absentmindedly noted that I was walking past a farm, lost in my thoughts as I ambled on. I had passed the farmhouse and was maybe 20 meters or so from the property’s entrance when I heard loud barking — a very common occurrence, so I didn’t think much of it initially. But something told me to turn around, and I did. I screamed as I realized two massive black-and-white dogs were sprinting at me, barking and gnashing their teeth. The rest of what happened was purely instinct as my fight-or-flight took over: I yelled angrily and squared up to the dogs, trying to look big while taking a defensive position with my poles in front of me. As they continued to charge I could feel my mind racing, trying to figure out how to react if and when they reached me — but realistically, with two of them, I was a goner if they decided to attack me. Thankfully, they stopped just a few meters ahead of me. They tested me again, snarling, baring their teeth, and lunging at me, but I held position. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of a standoff, but was realistically more like a minute, the dogs gave up and went running back into the farm’s property.

I stood for a moment with my hand on my chest, trying to settle my pounding heart. Then I started to look around…did anybody else see that? In fact, two bicyclists were pulling up and had seen the whole thing. I watched as they passed the entrance to the farmhouse — the dogs gave them no issue — and cycled by me. One commented that the farmer really should have a gate (no kidding — how can you have such aggressive dogs when you live on a walking path?) and the other asked if I was okay. I nodded. I was fine, but shaken up.

I started to continue down the road, steadying my breathing. My heart was still in my throat and I could feel the adrenaline start to dissipate from my bloodstream. I started to feel a bit dizzy. Once I was far enough away from the farm, I decided to stop for a moment, drink some water, breathe deeply, and try to wait until my body was back to normal. This was effective enough, and soon I threw my pack back on and continued on, though my enthusiasm was significantly dampened.

The next 30 minutes or so was kind of a blur as I still wasn’t feeling great. Tall, golden weeds blew to and fro in the wind; round hay bales dotted hillsides; abandoned farmhouses stood guard over vast fields of nothing. I stumbled along through fields, turned a corner and then another, stepping absently out of the way when cars passed. I crossed a road and followed signs toward the Monte Gelato park.

It was busy here — this is a classic day trip from Rome, and it was a Sunday. My head still not fully on my shoulders, I pounded up the steps of the only restaurant in the park, and slumped at a table. The waiter came by to tell me that the kitchen wouldn’t open for another 30 minutes. I told him that was fine — honestly, I needed the time — and pulled out my iPad to read my book.

Once I did order, my pappardelle with cinghiale ragu came out quickly. It was pretty good, and I washed it down with a liter of water before getting up to go — receiving some curious looks from the day-trippers in the restaurant and their significantly smaller backpacks. I did a quick lap of the falls themselves, which are small but lovely, and said hi to Sergio who was just arriving.

It was a relatively quick walk from Monte Gelato to town. Once again I passed by fields grass with the occasional trees providing shade. After just an hour or so, I suddenly looked up to see the clifftop town of Campagnano di Roma looming over me. However, once again the way was blocked by traffic: three cows standing on the path, having a mid-afternoon snack. I talked quietly to them as I passed, giving them a wide berth, and then dragged myself up the final steep uphill into town and to my hostel.

As it turns out, I was alone in the hostel. I set about my chores, realizing this was the last day I needed to do laundry — I would have enough clean clothes tomorrow morning to get me to Rome — and then headed out to explore the town.

Campagnano is a small town, but on this Sunday afternoon it was bustling with a large market that stretched from the medeival town center to outside of the town gates. I walked a few laps, casually browsing for anything that might be nice to adorn my pack (unsuccessful on that front), and stopped for a delicious gelato. As I browsed I was stopped by a honey salesman who offered to let me try a few honeys. This immediately reminded me of going to the county fair as a kid, where I would beeline (pun intended) to the honey stands to sample all sorts of options. I tried a few and, despite myself, purchased a very small jar that I felt was light enough to justify putting in the pack. Afterwards, I decided I needed to go sit somewhere before I could inflict further damage to my wallet and pack weight.

I found a wine bar, where I had a glass of a local red which came with a solid aperitivo offering: bruschette, peanuts, and a big bowl of potato chips. I sat for awhile writing, and then FaceTimed with Nathan, who was packing up to fly to Rome tomorrow morning! As I went in to pay, I realized Stephen and Kay were sitting at a table inside — they must have walked right by my! We got to chatting as Michelle and Penny walked in, and they invited me to join them. I sat down and had a glass of wine as they told me about their day.

After a lovely chat we all headed to their hotel restaurant, which offered a 20 euro pilgrim menu. It was a good dinner conversation-wise. I’m not one to complain about the service at restaurants, but I will say the service here was quite haphazard, and it felt like no one was ever eating at the same time. I waited over an hour for my first course to arrive. It wasn’t the end of the world, of course, but it meant dinner stretched on for longer than any of us had anticipated, since we all wanted to get a reasonable amount of sleep. So, after a sort of soupy cacio e pepe, a delicious omelette and (of course) a tiramisu, I thanked them all for the lovely company and trudged back to the hostel to fall into bed.

Final mileage: 15.27 mi
Walking time: 6h 50m
Elevation gain: 1,164 ft

Accommodation: Ostello di Campagnano. This was a small hostel (a small room with 3 beds, plus another in the kitchen area). For 1-2 it would be just right, but I imagine it would feel a bit crowded with the full number of people. It was great being in the city center (apparently the parish accommodations are outside the city center somewhere).